Forgetting Sarah
by Theayonder
Summary: How Mr. Ketch got his tattoo. A one-shot. A very tired one-shot. Enjoy. Don't own, don't claim. Cheers.


**Forgetting Sarah**

 **At 19**

He knew of monsters. He killed them. Often and he was brilliant at it. It was something he would always be good at. The sort of things he had seen. There was no room for sentimentality in his world. He knew his place in the hierarchy. He was the one _they_ always sent in to clean up after everyone else failed. He was the one to truly make certain that his missions were completed.

At least, that's what _they_ were training him to do. _He_ was a legacy after all. He also had a terrible childhood – part and parcel of being a Man of Letters. Unlike the others – he'd been given up to the cause.

Quickly and quietly: he patiently waited for her to appear. She was the first and last light in his dim world. Like clockwork – she scurried into the sanctuary.

Her blonde hair piled up into an oddly shaped bun atop her head. Charming and her clothing was neat, a navy pea-coat paired with black trouser bottoms. She was wearing the Versace heels today, he noted absently. Together they sat in silence. She was staring at the cross and him, staring at her.

Again as was custom, he ducked his gaze away from her as she left after an hour. Seventeen minutes later, he took walked out. While he certainly knew her name, address and other different factors about her: Arthur understood where he stood.

She was a civilian. Not a monster he went after. She didn't know the dark like he did. She was in many ways pure. He would return the next week and the next until one day…

 **At 24**

She was late. He knew this because she was never late. _Never_. When she did arrive – it was almost time for him to leave. He was discomforted by her actions. It was very unnerving and most certainly an annoyance.

She clambered into her spot, eyes facing forward. He noticed the bruise right away. He stayed; slightly angered someone would touch her in such a way. Although he understood such actions happened. He had thought such things were beneath her. Seeing as she never acknowledged him. She didn't stay long it seemed. She turned away from the cross at three minutes to the end of their usual sojourn. He looked up with she brushed past him – something she had never done. Momentarily he looked up, she caught his gaze. Her eyes were like warm, cherry tree that blinked gently at him as she scurried away.

He would never forget…

 **At 27**

"Dearly beloved we are –"

The service was dull. Indeed, another one of their men had overstepped boundaries and had to be put down. It was exhausting. He usually did not come to these things unless _they_ asked. When he finally saw her - he had to hold in his gasp. It was both oddly amusing and terrifying to know that _she_ was there. At last. He preened. He looked good. She didn't even notice.

 **At 28**

It had been a full year and already he was certainly overwhelmed. There was a growing trend he realized with a bit of terror that she was certainly wiser to his ways. His little pumpkin would watch him now. She sat a bit further away than before. The cross mocked him.

 **At 29**

He'd noticed the bruises around her eye. Saw her tremble even as her eyes trained themselves at the cross they'd been staring at for years. He had wanted to show she hadn't escaped his notice. He wanted to hurt the person who had done that to her.

 **Six months later**

"Why do you keep staring at me?" She finally asked, eyebrow rose as she stared down at him. "I am insignificant."

He showed her she wasn't. Touched her curves, bit into her like tasting a fruit he had never knew he craved. For nearly seven months they mated. Hard and fast as well as slow and languid was their usual style. Her name was Sarah. Befitting a princess – he would never tell her that. He tried to understand her of course but theirs was a relationship built on wild, consummation. Something she assured him time and time again he was very good at.

At night he would ensure touching her in all those inappropriately delectable ways. During the day he would kill his monsters. When there was no work to be had, he would bury himself into her waiting heat.

He would pant and crave her like the sin she was. She was the succubus and he was a mere mortal. Love wasn't something he'd call it. He didn't believe in that. No he was selfish enough to realize he didn't care for her in anyway resembling commitment.

No. He screwed her senseless. They were fire and oil – their bodies ignited by their own wanton need to destroy their inhibitions. He learned from her the best ways to prolong the agony of not reaching the perfect pinnacle of completion. He learned to draw out anticipation. Above all – Sarah was teaching him to use awful tenderness as a form of delicious torture.

 **At 30**

She was dead. Just like the rest.

Except she was not the rest. Not quite like the rest. Never the rest.

He would never speak of this to anyone again. Not even to Toni who was adamantly his as much as Sarah had been. He was the epitome of proper, English gentleman. He buried himself in the women he knew would fall for his usual charm. He knew he could make them cream and squeal. He locked up her memory into the dark parts of him never to revisit.

 **Years Later**

She was like Sarah. Blonde and wild – a vixen, petite in her hunter gear. They worked well together and he was doing his best not to enjoy her company. He had a job to do after all. Mixing business with pleasure is what got Sarah killed. In fact he had had to kill her.

Arthur would never forget putting down the woman he once loved. Seeing as she had been bit by a werewolf from Wales. There was not time to allow the past remember itself. Yet meeting Mary – he had been surprised. He'd been attracted to her that very first meeting. She was beautiful in her own, country waifish way.

Of course Mary had been dead for many years before being brought to life. Damn Winchesters always complicating things. He had been given a certain amount of leeway this time. Something he would exploit to its full.

Mary had other plans. He was fine with that. She made him forget about Sarah. Made him forget momentarily about the cross he'd etched into his skin. A reminder of everything Sarah had represented to him. The Winchester matriarch would ask one day where it came from. He would deflect them into the hunt for monsters. That particular past time proved to be the best way to get distract Mary. Perfect.

As night fell – that darkness made its presence known.


End file.
